


The Monster Inside of Me

by Lauralot



Series: Alexander Pierce should have died slower [19]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bed-Wetting, Diapers, Gen, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Minor Violence, Miscommunication, Non-Sexual Age Play, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Temper Tantrums, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4777982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauralot/pseuds/Lauralot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.</p><p>Steve tries his best to make things better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Monster Inside of Me

**Author's Note:**

> This installment owes a lot of its pain and ideas to the brilliant suggestions of [WritingCyan](archiveofourown.org/users/WritingCyan/pseuds/WritingCyan).

**“Look at me! Look at me!” said the boy. “The monster inside of me has gotten this big!”**

—“Obluda,” _Monster_ , Naoki Urasawa

  


“Bucky Bear hit Tasha.”

“Hmm?” Daddy asks. He doesn’t look up from his sketchpad.

Bucky has to pull his hand off of the doorframe. He’s shaking all over and even his right hand could crack the wood if he isn’t careful. “Daddy, Bucky Bear _hit_ Tasha.”

“Sure,” Daddy says without looking up. He’s really focused on his picture. “I’ll be there in a second.”

“ _Daddy_.” Bucky’s voice breaks into a sob. He has no right to cry—he isn’t the one who got hit—but he can’t stop himself. Bucky has to grab onto the doorframe again because otherwise his legs are going to give out.

And Daddy looks up, eyes going round with concern. “Bucky?”

“Bucky Bear hit Tasha!” Bucky says, and then he’s crying too hard to say anything else. Bucky Bear hits really hard because bears are so strong. Tasha had tears coming out of her eyes when Bucky ran to get Daddy, and he’s never ever seen her cry before. Even when she found out Clint got stabbed, she hadn’t moved past sniffling. Not in front of Bucky.

Daddy drops the sketchpad on his bed, rushing over and wrapping his arms around Bucky. “It’s okay,” he says, but Bucky can hear in his voice that it’s not. He sounds confused. Worried. “Here, let’s go make sure Tasha’s not hurt.”

Tasha’s still sitting by couch in the playroom, just where Bucky left her. She has an juice box pressed against her cheek. It was the coldest thing in the playroom’s mini-fridge, and Bucky had given it to her before he went to get Daddy. The skin around the box is purple, and her face is still wet with tears.

“Hey,” Daddy says softly, kneeling down beside her. “Can I see what happened?” Tasha stiffens a little, but Daddy puts his hand on her shoulder. “I won’t touch it, Tasha. Promise.”

When Tasha slides the juice box to the side, the skin at the middle of the bruise is tight and almost black. Daddy breathes loud and sharp through his teeth. That makes Tasha tense up again, but Daddy only pats her back. “I think Bruce should take a look at this.”

 **I HAVE SCANNED MISS ROMANOFF’S INJURY, CAPTAIN ROGERS,** says JARVIS. **THERE IS NO DAMAGE TO THE UNDERLYING BONE.**

“Still,” Daddy says, holding out his hand to help Tasha up. “He’ll be able to numb this. Are you hurt anywhere else?”

Tasha shakes her head. Her lip is trembling, but as she stands up, she goes all stone-faced and still.

“Stay here, Bucky.” Daddy’s arm is around Tasha’s shoulders. As they leave the room, Daddy guides her around the other side of the couch. The side away from Bucky.

It’s not until he hears the elevator close after them that he looks down at Bucky Bear. The bear is lying on the carpet, his arms and legs all splayed out, face against the floor. His mask is out of place, covering up one eye. Just like Bucky left him.

Bucky blinks, and the tears spill out again.

Bucky Bear doesn’t cry. Bucky Bear never cries.

But Bucky can’t stop crying, so he just picks up his bear and squeezes him tight, trying not to drip on him as they wait for Daddy to come back.

 _It’s okay,_ he tries to tell Bucky Bear. _You were trying to keep me safe. Daddy will know you didn’t mean to hurt Tasha. He won’t be mad._ Daddy’s never been mad at Bucky Bear, not even the one time they were playing and Bucky Bear started eviscerating the bad bear. But Tasha’s different than a pretend injury on a mission, and every time Bucky says it’ll be okay, it feels like he’s lying.

Plus, the last time Bucky Bear hurt another bear, he made Daddy really sad. And that’s maybe even worse than making him angry. When Bucky made his last daddy angry, he knew what to expect. He’d be punished and he’d apologize and make up for it, and then things would be okay.

Sad is different. No matter how much Bucky apologizes when he makes Daddy sad, it doesn’t make the hurt in Daddy’s eyes disappear.

And Daddy looks so sad when he comes back. Everything Bucky was planning to say, all his explanations about how Bucky Bear didn’t mean to hurt anybody, it all just freezes up in his throat.

“I’m not mad, Bucky,” Daddy says. When he sits down, he’s not right next to Bucky, and he’s not in front of the door either. Bucky thinks the doctors taught him to sit that way. “I just want to understand what happened. I talked to Tasha, but I want to hear your side of the story too, okay?”

Bucky rubs his sleeve over his wet face. “Is Tasha really hurt?”

“She’ll be fine,” Daddy promises. “She’s going to have a big bruise for a while, but it’ll go away. Can you tell me what happened?”

Bucky tries to explain. He really does. But then he feels like he’s going to cry again, and that would be so manipulative and bad. All he can do is gasp, shoulders shaking, struggling not to let any tears slip out.

“Bucky.” Daddy doesn’t come any closer, but his hand is on the floor and he slides it forward so that Bucky can hold onto him if he reaches out. “It’s okay, Bucky. Deep breaths. Take all the time you need. I promise I’m not mad at you.”

Bucky can’t take deep breaths. As soon as he opens his mouth, he thinks he might throw up because his tummy’s so tense, and the words just come spilling out before he can do that. “I was sitting in here with Bucky Bear and we were going to color but then I was too busy thinking and I wasn’t even thinking about anything just all kinds of stuff and I didn’t hear Tasha come in and then she was touching my hair and my last daddy used to touch my hair and I forgot where I was and I got scared and Bucky Bear hit her!”

Daddy doesn’t look any happier. In fact, Bucky thinks he might actually be more upset. But all he says is, “Breath on a count of ten, Bucky. I’ll count for you.”

He does. Bucky thinks that Daddy must count to ten at least twenty times before Bucky stops shaking.

“I’m sorry that Tasha scared you,” Daddy says. “Once you’ve both calmed down, I think we should all have a talk about this, and you can tell Tasha about ways to get your attention that won’t upset you.” He looks like he’s trying not to sigh. “But Bucky, you need to apologize too.”

“I know. Bucky Bear’s really, really, really sorry and he won’t ever do it again, he just didn’t want anybody to hurt me!”

Daddy rubs at his face. “I know it can be hard to admit it when you do something you know you shouldn’t. I’m not going to hurt you, Bucky. No one is. I just want to make sure we can avoid this happening again.”

“But Bucky Bear is admitting it.” Bucky Bear isn’t even afraid of punishments. There isn’t any punishment worse than the colander, and he’s already been through that a bunch.

“Tasha told me that you hit her,” Daddy says. “And a teddy bear can’t hit that hard.” He sighs. “It’s wrong to hit, Bucky. But it’s good—and brave—to own up to it when you do something wrong.”

“But bears are really strong!” Bucky’s stomach sinks. He didn’t hit Tasha. He wouldn’t. He _can’t._

“Stuffed bears aren’t.” Daddy looks so disappointed, but what’s Bucky supposed to say? He didn’t hit her. “Are you saying that Tasha’s lying? I don’t think you’d call her a liar.”

“No! She just—she made a mistake!” Or maybe Bucky Bear punched her so fast that she didn’t see. Tasha wouldn’t lie. But Bucky Bear was the one who hit her.

Daddy looks away for a second. His lips move, but he’s not saying anything. It looks like he’s thinking hard, and when he speaks again, his words sound very careful. “Bucky, you’ve been through a lot. We all know that. It’s not okay to hit, but I understand that you were scared and lashed out without thinking. It was a mistake. But lying about it is deliberate. And you can’t make things better unless you’re willing to be honest about what happened.”

“But I am being honest!” Bucky doesn’t mean to yell, but that’s how it comes out.

From the look on Daddy’s face, Bucky thinks he’s about to cry, and he feels cold all over. But all Daddy does is hold out his hands. “Bucky, give me your bear.”

“No!” Bucky doubles himself over around the bear, squeezing. “You promised you wouldn’t take him away! You promised!”

“You’ll get him back,” Daddy says. “I won’t hurt him, lamb. I swear.”

“No,” Bucky whispers, eyes shut tight. He can feel tears forcing their way out between his lashes. “You can’t have him.”

“Bucky. Give me your bear.”

And Bucky can’t say no. He doesn’t even want to think about what Daddy could do to Bucky Bear—to any of the bears—if Bucky acts that bad. Slowly, shakily, he holds out his bear. And when Daddy takes Bucky Bear from his hands, it feels like he’s been torn open, and a bunch of bloody, infected ooze is about to start spilling out.

“Thank you, Bucky.” Daddy’s standing up now, and Bucky has to sit on his hands to keep from knocking him over and taking Bucky Bear back.

“JARVIS,” Daddy says. “Can you set a timer for half an hour?”

The numbers **30:00** materialize in the air.

“Thank you.” The numbers don’t start counting down yet, and Daddy turns his attention back to Bucky. “You’re upset, and you need some time to calm down so that we can talk about this. I’m giving you half an hour, okay? This isn’t a punishment, Bucky. You can do whatever you need to that will help you feel better. You can color, you can read, anything you want. But we need to talk about this honestly when I come back.”

“But.” Bucky’s so cold. He can’t ever remember a time when he felt this cold before that wasn’t right after he came out of the ice. “What about Bucky Bear?”

“You can have him back in half an hour if you’re honest about what happened,” Daddy says. He must see that Bucky’s shaking, because for a second it almost seems like he’s going to step forward and give Bucky his bear. “He’ll be with me until then. He’ll be fine, I promise.”

“But I need him.” He has to have Bucky Bear. Bucky Bear keeps him safe.

“It’s just thirty minutes.” Daddy looks at the countdown again. “JARVIS, can you start the clock now?”

 **29:59** , the countdown reads.

“I _need_ him,” Bucky says.

“It’ll be okay,” Daddy promises, and then he and Bucky Bear are gone.

It won’t be okay. Nothing’s okay if Bucky Bear isn’t here to protect him. Anything could happen without Bucky Bear. It’s not safe. It’s not _okay_. Bucky’s gasping, shaking, burying his face against his knees to hide his tears. He can’t cry. He’s already been so bad and if he acts any worse, he might never see his bear again.

He tries to breathe to a count of ten, but the numbers keep getting mixed up. Bucky’s struggling so hard to keep from crying that it takes him a long time to realize that something hurts.

Bucky raises his head. The countdown says **25:00** now. His hands are twisted in his hair, pulling. He tries to let go, but the metal hand has a bunch of hairs stuck in the little grooves of his fingers. When he tugs his hand away, the hairs rip out and make his eyes water.

It hurts and he’s so _mad_ and then the coffee table’s lying on its side. He knocked it over. He’s the worst kid ever and Daddy’s going to stop loving him and he’ll never get Bucky Bear back. Bucky can’t stop himself from crying anymore.

The countdown’s at twenty minutes left when Bucky runs out of tears. He makes the coffee table stand back up. It’s not scratched or damaged at all, but that doesn’t matter. JARVIS will tell Daddy what he did.

 _Calm down_ , Daddy had said, and Bucky hasn’t. And that will only make Daddy even more angry when he comes back, if he bothers at all. Maybe he’ll just be Tasha’s daddy now. He’s never punished Tasha.

 _You’re an ungrateful, wicked little boy._ The words belong to his last daddy, but now he hears them in Daddy’s voice. _How could I ever love a boy as bad as you?_

Bucky makes himself walk to the craft table. He’d put paper and crayons there before he got caught up thinking. Calm down. He has to calm down. Maybe if he draws Bucky Bear, it’ll be like having the bear with him again. Maybe he’ll be safe.

But at **15:00** , he looks down at his drawing, and it doesn’t help at all.

Bucky Bear’s only supposed to have red on the collar, cuffs, and epaulettes of his coat. But there’s red crayon all over his paws and his muzzle, dripping down the front of his coat. It’s bad. It’s wrong. It’s—

It’s exactly how Bucky Bear would look if he got away from Daddy to come protect Bucky.

There’s something in his stomach, heavy and hot. For a second, he thinks he’s been bad enough to make himself sick, but nothing comes out. It just spreads through his whole body, burning in his veins. He’s not sick.

He’s _angry._

Daddy promised he would never take Bucky Bear. He _promised_. And now he’s broken that promise and left Bucky all alone for something that Bucky didn’t even do and it’s not _fair_.

Bucky’s last daddy wouldn’t let him hold the bunny if he’d made Daddy mad. And everyone always says his last daddy was awful. But now Daddy took Bucky Bear, and if everything his old daddy did was bad and wrong, why should he listen to the new one?

His old daddy never just took things. He hit or spanked or made Bucky say sorry with his body. If Daddy just hits him now, the punishment can be over and he’ll have Bucky Bear back. Daddy always says he’ll never hit, but he also said he wouldn’t take the bear. Bucky just has to be bad enough.

And that feels really easy all of sudden. He’s angry. He _wants_ to misbehave.

With ten minutes remaining, Bucky takes the red crayon and walks to the wall.

*

When Daddy comes back, one whole wall of the playroom is covered with crayon, and it’s not the wall that’s got chalkboard paint on it. In the middle, Bucky drew a bear tearing out Captain America’s insides. After that, he just scribbled everywhere else that he could reach.

Daddy stops in the doorway. His mouth is open, Bucky Bear in his hands. He doesn’t look happy.

 _Good,_ Bucky thinks. He almost smiles.

“I want my bear back.”

His words get Daddy to find his own voice. “Why did you do this?”

“Because you’re a liar and I don’t like being lied to,” Bucky says. “You’re a bad daddy and I hope you get eaten by bears. And I want Bucky Bear right now.”

Daddy stares at him, but it isn’t the right kind of stare. He doesn’t look furious, just wet-eyed and confused. “You need to go to your room.”

Instead, Bucky sits down, crossing his arms. “Why? So you can call Sam? Or look up parenting sites on your phone? Why don’t you just yell at me and stop trying to pretend you’re nice? You’re a bad parent. I’m not listening to you.”

“Because you need to go lie down until you can control yourself,” Daddy says. “And then you have to clean off the walls before you’re allowed to play in here again.”

“You can’t make me go,” Bucky says. Daddy can carry him when Bucky wants to be carried, but if Bucky struggles, then there’s no way Daddy can move him more than a few feet at a time.

“Bucky, if you can’t play with things nicely, then you won’t be allowed to play with them at all. How would you feel if someone scribbled all over your bedroom?”

Bucky punches the wall with his right hand. The plaster breaks around his knuckles, and there’s enough force behind the blow for his whole arm to disappear into the wall right up to the elbow. Bucky topples sideways, but he can’t fall all the way over with his arm stuck.

“I feel like I want my bear back,” he snaps.

But Daddy doesn’t listen, rushing over to make sure Bucky hasn’t hurt himself. He’s not holding Bucky Bear now. Bucky doesn’t know where he put the bear before he came in, and he can’t run away to find him because Daddy’s holding his arm.

His knuckles are all scraped up and they end up in Daddy’s bathroom so Daddy can dig out the plaster with tweezers before Bucky’s skin heals over it. Daddy had wanted Bucky to go see Bruce, but Bucky told him that if he had to, he’d make Bruce turn into the Hulk and smash Daddy for taking his bear.

“And how do you plan to do that, Buck?” Daddy had asked in the elevator. He looked like he was trying not to smile.

“I’ll tell him he’s a dangerous freak who’s selfish for putting everyone in danger so he can pretend to be normal instead of doing the right thing and finding a way to kill himself,” Bucky said.

Daddy stopped smiling. They hadn’t gone to see Bruce after that.

It doesn’t hurt when Daddy takes the plaster out, but Bucky squirms and howls anyway. When Daddy tries to wipe at the cuts with alcohol to keep them clean, Bucky spits: first on his hand and then on Daddy. Daddy keeps apologizing for hurting him, keeps begging him to stay still for a few minutes. He wipes his eyes against his arm over and over even after the spit’s cleaned away. He doesn’t even threaten to hit Bucky. It’s all wrong.

It takes half an hour for Daddy to clean up his hand because he won’t just hold Bucky down. When he’s done, he holds out a box of Avengers band-aids. “You can pick the ones you want.”

Bucky knocks the box out of his hand, spilling band-aids all over the floor. Instead of slapping him, Daddy grabs three band-aids and puts them over Bucky’s cuts. He leaves the rest where they are. He says Bucky made the mess, so Bucky has to clean it.

Bucky won’t talk to him, pulling his hand away when Daddy tries to kiss the band-aids. He glares and the band-aids don’t get picked up.

“Do you want me to call Cornelius and Miriam?” Daddy asks.

“I want my bear.”

“What’s wrong, Bucky?” Daddy sits down beside him. The Avengers haven’t had a mission in almost a month, but Daddy still looks wounded. “Something’s been eating at you all day, even before Tasha startled you. I want to help. Did you have a bad dream? Or remember something sad? Did one of the SHIELD agents say something mean last week? What can I do to make you feel better?”

“I want my bear back!” Bucky shouts.

Daddy’s hands are shaking. He looks like he might cry, and Bucky finds that he _wants_ him to. “Are you ready to be honest about what happened to Tasha?”

“Fuck you.”

Daddy just tells him to sit there until he can relax and speak nicely and asks JARVIS to tell him if Bucky moves.

*

“What do you want for dinner?” Daddy asks.

“Give me back my bear,” Bucky says.

He’s been sitting on the floor outside of Daddy’s bathroom for almost two hours now. Every twenty minutes, Daddy shows up to ask how Bucky’s feeling. Every time, the answer is the same. It’s sort of like name, rank, and serial number. Except he’s not saying any of those things, just demanding Bucky Bear’s return.

“You can pick any food you want.” Every time Daddy shows up, he looks like he’s about to cry. It’s pathetic. He’d probably have sobbed himself into dehydration on the Valkyrie if all his tears hadn’t frozen first. “I don’t want you to be sad, lamb. I really don’t. Do you want apple bunnies? Or soup? I can make popcorn or get takeout—what would cheer you up?”

“I’m not eating until you give back Bucky Bear.”

“Bucky.” All the color drains out of Daddy’s face. He’s so weak; it turns Bucky’s stomach. “You have to eat. You’ll make yourself sick.”

Bucky shuts his eyes and puts his hands over his ears. His whole body is on edge, waiting for a punch. He’ll probably be hit in the face instead of the stomach. The way they’re sitting, that would be easier for Daddy.

But he doesn’t get punched anywhere. He can feel Daddy walking away. And when he lowers his hands a few minutes later, he can hear Daddy’s voice in the kitchen, muffled, talking on the phone. Daddy’s been doing that a lot over the past two hours, probably calling Sam and begging him to fly back from DC and fix everything.

Half an hour later, Bucky’s stomach is starting to growl as he hears the elevator doors swish open.

“I brought dinner!”

Pepper’s voice. Bucky’s not hungry anymore. It’s not fair that Daddy brought Pepper here to make him eat. He doesn’t want to yell at Pepper.

He can hear Pepper walk into the kitchen, make out Daddy’s low rumble of words over the sound of plates clinking. Pepper’s speaking quietly too, way too faint for Bucky to understand, but her voice is lighter. It sounds like music.

Bucky wonders if Daddy even bothered to give Bucky Bear his honey.

“Hey, sweetie.”

Pepper’s in the doorway. She’s holding a plate. Bucky can’t tell what’s on it, but he can see steam rising up.

“Your daddy said you’re not feeling good,” Pepper continues, walking over to him. “So I thought I’d make that spaghetti you liked a lot. The zucchini kind, remember?”

She sets the plate down in front of him. Zucchini spaghetti with avocado sauce. Bucky remembers.

This isn’t _fair_.

“You don’t have to eat the whole plate,” Pepper says. The fork resting in the noodles is plastic. Daddy won’t even let him have real forks now. “But try to eat as much as you can for me, okay?”

Bucky takes a forkful and shoves it in his mouth, trying to swallow before he can enjoy it. He wouldn’t enjoy it anyway. It doesn’t taste like last time; it’s like when he cries and tears get into his mouth. Like nothingness.

Then Pepper says, “It’ll help,” and something goes snap.

It’s the fork. Bucky broke the fork in two by squeezing it too tight. He lets the pieces fall onto the plate, fuming. It won’t help. None of this will help. The only thing that will help is having Bucky Bear back to keep him safe, and he’s sick of people acting otherwise.

“Oh!” Pepper again. “It’s okay, Bucky, I’ll get you another—”

“Don’t you have anything better to do with your time?”

Pepper stops. “What’s that?”

“You’re the CEO of Stark Industries. You should be working all the time just for damage control on all the stupid stuff Tony does. Why are you making me dinner?”

She just smiles. “Because I care about you, sweetie.”

“Did you decide you’d screw up a normal kid?” he asks. “So I’m the next best thing? Or did you think any kid you had would grow up to be a drunken mess like Tony?”

“Bucky!” Daddy says, appearing in the doorway.

Bucky doesn’t stop. “Can you not have kids? Or are you scared someone would kill you and Tony and your kids would be orphans? You know I made Tony an orphan? Only it wasn’t even really me. Howard Stark was stupid and swerved to try and miss me, and he killed himself and his wife because he couldn’t keep control of the car. He was so stupid. You can tell Tony I said that.”

When Pepper runs out of the room, Bucky doesn’t think she’s going to tell Tony at all.

“ _Bucky_ ,” Daddy says. He’s so white he looks like he’s still anemic.

Bucky smiles and flips the plate so noodles and sauce get all over the floor.

*

Daddy still won’t hit Bucky after he almost made Pepper cry, so Bucky decides to be as awful as he possibly can.

When Daddy tells Bucky to clean up the spaghetti, Bucky grabs handfuls of it instead, mashing them further into the floor or throwing them around the room. By the time he’s done, the walls, the bedspread, and his own clothes are splattered with sauce and pieces of zucchini. He slips on the sauce when he tries to get up, banging his head on the floor. He won’t let Daddy near him and he screams at the top of his lungs long after it’s stopped hurting.

When Daddy brings in Captain Ameribear to help Bucky stop wailing, Bucky throws the bear into the hallway. Later, when Daddy leaves to talk to Pepper, Bucky goes to the kitchen and shoves Captain Ameribear in the freezer.

When Daddy comes back, Bucky’s taken the shaving cream out of the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and he’s spraying it all over the sink and mirror.

Daddy grabs his wrist, and Bucky thinks, _Finally_. But Daddy doesn’t punch him, and he doesn’t take off his belt either. He just takes the shaving cream away and makes Bucky sit on the couch in the living room.

“Bucky.” Daddy sits down beside him, probably to keep Bucky from bolting. The skin under Daddy’s eyes is so dark, and when he sighs, it sounds almost more like a yawn. “I love you. Everyone here—Pepper, Tasha, Tony, Bruce, all of us—we all love you. We want you to feel safe when you’re with us. Please, Bucky. Can’t you tell me what it was that had you so upset earlier? I want to help you, little lamb.”

“I’m not a lamb,” Bucky snaps.

“I know that.” Daddy shuts his eyes, and he’s quiet for so long that Bucky starts to think he’s falling asleep. “It’s just something my mom used to call me. It meant she loved me.”

“Sarah Rogers was a whore who probably died with syphilis in her lungs,” Bucky says. “Not TB.”

Daddy opens his eyes. There’s a look in them that Bucky thinks is hatred. “I know you’re upset,” he says, and there’s nothing soft in his voice now. “But it’s not okay to talk that way. Not about anyone. And not about my mom.”

“Bet she lied about when her husband shipped out.” Bucky tries to force a smirk. “Bet he wasn’t your father at all.”

Bucky braces himself when Daddy stands up. His last daddy wasn’t a super soldier. This is going to hurt a lot more. But he can take it. That’s what he’s designed to do.

Daddy doesn’t hit him. He stands there for a long, long time, and when he finally breathes out, it’s like a gunshot through the room. Then he turns and walks away, letting the stairwell door slam behind him. Bucky can hear him banging on the stairs. He’s probably cracking the floor tiles, he’s stomping so hard.

Bucky gets up, knocking all the cushions off the couch before he sits down again.

Maybe Daddy’s not coming back. Sometimes when he was bad, his last daddy just left him alone for hours and hours until he learned to be grateful. Once, Bucky thinks he was alone for more than a day. He can outlast Daddy now. He’s had practice. And this time, he has food and water and everything else he could need.

But it isn’t hours and hours before Daddy returns. It isn’t even an hour. And he doesn’t have a belt when he comes back. He’s carrying Bucky’s Iron Man pajamas—his softest pair—and all the prescription bottles for Bucky’s medications are balanced on top.

“You need to get ready for bed,” Daddy says. “Do you want to put on your pajamas or take your medicine first?”

“I won’t take it.”

“Bucky,” Daddy says, voice cracking. “You have to take the medicine. It’s not up for debate.”

“I won’t!” he shouts. “I’m not doing anything you say ever again until you give Bucky Bear back!”

Daddy winces, rubbing at his forehead. “If you won’t take your medicine, you can’t have a bedtime story.” He looks like his head hurts, so Bucky keeps screaming.

“I don’t want a story! Your stories are bullshit! They’re just lies like everything else you say!” He fumbles for another insult before adding, “And you don’t even tell them good!”

“They’re better than—” Daddy cuts himself off. There was a flash in his eyes, hot and angry, but it fades fast and leaves Daddy looking almost sick. He puts his head in his hands and shakes it. “Bucky. Do you want the water for your medicine in the blue cup or the green one?”

Daddy has a bunch of cups in different colors. Bucky’s nutritionists said that giving him choices and colorful plates and stuff would make it easier for him to eat. It’s stupid, and Daddy must think he’s stupid, trying to trick him into thinking that it’s okay to take the medication if he gets to choose the cup.

Bucky’s drawing in air to howl when an idea strikes him. “I want the blue cup,” he says, the words spilling out in a breathy rush. “And I want ice.”

Just like that, Daddy’s face floods with relief. He actually smiles. “Okay,” he says, setting the pajamas and pill bottles down. “You can have ice. I’ll get that right now, Buck.”

Bucky can tell from the yelp when Daddy opens the freezer that he sees Captain Ameribear straight away. And that he’s not smiling anymore. He’s still not smiling when he brings the blue cup with the ice water back into the living room. “Take your medicine.”

With a smile, Bucky takes the pills that Daddy holds out and swallows them dry. “You’re a bad daddy,” he says cheerfully. “You’re afraid of me, so you drug me to keep me under control. If you really loved me, you wouldn’t try to turn me into somebody else. That’s just what my last daddy did.”

Daddy has a really annoying way of breathing when he cries.

But he still won’t hit. He just gives Bucky the pajamas and tells him to get changed.

The spaghetti’s still all over the floor in Daddy’s bedroom. Bucky has to step around it to keep from slipping on his way to the bathroom. The sink is still full of shaving cream, but it’s gone all flat now.

The Iron Man pajamas are neatly folded, and they smell like the detergent that Bucky and Daddy always use. Bucky hugs tight onto them, burying his face against the fabric of the shirt, and for a second, his heart slows down for what feels like the first time all day. It’s almost like hugging onto Daddy, almost like everything’s okay.

Until Bucky feels something between the shirt and the pants that’s definitely not fabric.

There’s a pull-up between the clothes, and Bucky wants to scream. He’s not a _baby_. He’s not _five _. He’s an adult and he’s an assassin and he’s sick of being everybody’s charity project, everybody’s cute little toy because he’s too broken to be anything else now and nobody will let him do the things he’s designed for. He could kill anybody living here if he had the order. This is all _wrong_.__

He throws the pull-up in the cabinet under the sink, and the mirror rattles when he slams the door shut. Bucky storms out of the bathroom, not caring if he slips.

Daddy’s sitting at the foot of the bed. “I think it would be better if you slept here tonight, so I can be around if you need anything.”

Bucky knows what that means. “I want my bear.”

“You can have Captain Ameribear tonight,” Daddy says, pointing to the bear on the pillow.

“I want _my_ bear!” Bucky stomps his foot.

“Are you going to say you’re sorry?” Daddy asks.

He straightens up, looking Steve right in the eye, and there’s no stupid lisp in his voice when he speaks. “Do you want my mouth or should I get on the bed?”

And Steve gasps, the way he did for air when the Soldier pulled him out of the Potomac. “ _What_?”

He’s messed it up. He messes everything up. Little boys are supposed to be quiet and sweet and obedient, not mouthy and crude. Daddy won’t even bother to hit him now. He’ll just throw him out of the tower, he won’t want him anymore, he’s been so _bad_ and Daddy’s getting up, rushing toward him, and his mouth won’t even work to say _I’m sorry, Daddy, I’m so so sorry, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be really good—_

And Daddy’s just hugging him. Just holding so tight and petting Bucky’s hair and whispering the same words over and over. “It’s okay, Bucky, you’re safe here, you don’t have to be afraid, no one’s going to hurt you, it’s okay, you’re safe here.” It’s like a chant. A prayer.

Bucky’s not sure how long it lasts. All he knows is that eventually, he’s lying on the bed and Daddy’s pulling the covers up over him. He puts the Ameribear in Bucky’s hands and manages to kiss his forehead despite Bucky’s squirming.

“I know today was hard,” Daddy whispers once the lights are off and he’s lying down as well. “Tomorrow will be better, Buck. I promise.”

“I hate you,” Bucky says. “I wish I were still with my other daddy.”

Daddy’s pillow is going to be absolutely drenched if he doesn’t stop crying into it.

*

The sheets are wet.

The sheets are wet and his heart stops.

Steve’s asleep beside him and he’s cold and the sheets are sticking to his pajamas, and when Steve wakes up, he won’t love him anymore. He won’t _want_ him anymore. Steve will look at him and his mouth will twist in disgust and he’ll say, _Who could ever love something so filthy?_ He’ll say, _Pathetic._

He has to fix this. He has to make it right before Steve can see. But he can’t move. All he can do is tighten his fingers around the bear. The stupid bear. It’s not even the _right_ one, and suddenly he _can_ move, swinging his arm and hurling the Ameribear against the wall.

Steve sits up. “Bucky? What—” And he stops, because he must have realized exactly what.

He tries to pull the sheets over himself, but there’s no way Steve can’t feel it. There’s no hiding from this. His hands are shaking. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out.

“Bucky,” Steve says again. He sounds so tired. “Why aren’t you wearing protection?”

“Because—” His voice keeps going in and out. His mind is full of punishments and electricity and Pierce’s voice, annoyed and disappointed, and he can’t grab any one thought long enough to force it out as words. “Because—b-b-because—”

“C’mon,” Steve says, and he’s pulling the blankets back, exposing the shame soaking into the mattress. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

Steve draws the bath. The sink and mirror are still coated with drying shaving cream. There’s still band-aids and food all over the floor of the bedroom. He’s bad. He’s so, so bad and nothing he’s done has fixed it. He’s broken. He can’t _be_ here.

“It’s okay,” Steve says, staring at him. His voice is soft for the first time since he woke up. “Buck, it was just an accident. I know you can’t help it.”

And he’s crying then, which is maybe the worst thing of all.

“Bucky.” Steve’s standing before him, hands almost flapping as though he keeps reaching out to hug before thinking better of it. “Sweetheart, don’t cry.”

It’s an order. His handler has given him an order and he still can’t stop. Steve steps forward, and the Soldier thinks he’ll be struck for his insolence—he won’t flinch, he won’t—but instead Steve’s peeling the wet clothes off of him.

“Get in the bath, Bucky,” Steve says. “You’ll feel better.”

He won’t. But it’s an order, so he gets in all the same. The water is warm, and the Soldier doesn’t understand. He doesn’t deserve it.

“I can get another pair of your pajamas. Or you can wear some of mine,” Steve is saying, averting his eyes as the Soldier tries to scrub away his disgusting failure. “Which ones do you want? The Avengers pair? The pandas?”

He’s giving the Soldier options even though the Soldier has behaved horribly. Even though the Soldier isn’t meant to _be_ here. The Soldier can’t speak, can’t even meet his handler’s eyes, and eventually Steve must come to his senses because he stands up and leaves the Soldier.

But he returns almost as quickly as he goes, with a pair of his own pajamas and another pull-up. The Soldier flushes, still sniffling, as Steve hands him a towel. He stands, drying himself, and manages to stop the tears as he takes the shirt from Steve and slips it over his head.

The composure lasts until he’s sliding the pull-up over his hips. Then he’s crying again, even harder this time. His hands are shaking too much to take the pajama pants and cover himself. There’s nothing in his stomach to vomit up, but it lurches nonetheless.

And Steve—Steve’s holding him. _Hugging_ him, so close that his breath is like a faint breeze on the Soldier’s hair. It’s not a weapon’s place, and the Soldier tries to squirm free, but Steve doesn’t budge.

“It’s really okay, Bucky,” he says, stroking his hand down the Soldier’s back. “I’m not mad, I promise. Accidents happen.”

Not to weapons, they don’t. And he’s not supposed to be a weapon now. Steve doesn’t want a weapon, but the Soldier’s too worked up to be anything else. He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t deserve the hug, so he can’t hug back. He’s trembling.

“Shhh,” Steve says. “I’ve got you. Did you have a bad dream?”

“Can’t help it,” the Soldier whispers.

“I know—” Steve begins, but the Soldier shakes his head.

“I’m not supposed to be here. I can’t help it.” His legs won’t hold him up anymore, and Steve guides him to sit on the edge of the bath.

“Buck, I’m the one who asked you to sleep here tonight. Remember? It’s not your fault. You were upset and I should have made sure—”

“I need Bucky Bear.” The Soldier wants to hide. He wants to wrap his arms tight around his body and shut his eyes. Disappear until things make sense again. But he can’t do any of that. “Please.”

And Steve’s hand is grazing the Soldier’s jaw, tilting his head up until their eyes meet. “Tell me what’s wrong, lamb.”

He can’t disobey the order. He’s been so bad already.

The Soldier doesn’t know where to begin. He tries to organize his thoughts, but everything comes falling out like intestines through sliced flesh. “I’m here and I know I’m not supposed to be but you took Bucky Bear and there’s nowhere else for me to go and I thought if I was bad enough you’d really punish me and I could have the bear back and be safe and protect everyone but nothing’s working and I’ve done everything I’m not supposed to do and you don’t want me but I don’t know how to go _away_.”

He shuts his eyes. There are tears on his face and Steve wipes them off.

“I’ll always want you here, Bucky.” Steve’s sitting down beside him, putting an arm around his shoulders, and that only makes the Soldier’s shaking that much worse. “No matter how you’re acting. I said I’d take care of you without hurting you, remember? I meant it.”

“You want a child.” The Soldier flinches. He’s talking back, but it’s unavoidable; it’s wrong to mislead his handler. “I’m not a child.”

“Buck.” He can feel Steve staring at him. “You were my best friend way before you were my kid. Do you think I love you any less when you’re not little? ‘Till the end of the line, remember?”

“You don’t want a Winter Soldier!” he blurts out, pushing off of the bath to sit on the floor. Out of Steve’s reach. Away from an undeserved embrace. “I heard you tell Director Coulson! You said you never wanted to expose your friend to the field again. You said I’m a person, not a weapon. And when I came here with you, you said that there wouldn’t be any missions!”

He shuffles back into the corner, unable to look his handler in the eye but powerless to keep himself from speaking. “But that’s what I’m for! It’s what I’m designed to do. And I know you don’t want me around at all, but I can’t _help_ it. I don’t know how to go away. I can’t stop needing orders. It’s—it’s easy, with the bear. I understand what teddy bears are for. They’re supposed to protect people. I know that. But you took the bear away and now I don’t have anything. And I don’t know what to _do_. I don’t know how to leave, and I’ve _tried_ , sir. I’ve really tried. And today I was thinking about it—it’s all I’ve thought about since SHIELD was here—and Tasha came to play—I didn’t mean to. I know I’m not supposed to hurt anyone. I’m broken. I’m malfunctioning. Please, please, _please_ fix me, sir.”

The Soldier lifts his head. His lashes are wet with tears, and the bathroom lights reflect off of them like a kaleidoscope, making it impossible to read the look on his handler’s face. He doesn’t need to see it to know that Steve must be disgusted. Angry. “Give me back the bear. I’ll be good. I’ll be so, so good, I promise. You won’t even know I’m here. I’ll never, ever bother anyone again, sir, _please._ ”

Steve stands up. The Soldier’s face is a mess of tears, but he bites his tongue to keep from begging further. He’s already such a disgrace. Steve will throw him out. Or put him back into the ice.

But Steve just kneels down before him. 

The Soldier blinks, and his eyes clear enough to see that Steve is crying too.

“Bucky,” Steve says.

The Soldier cannot speak.

And then Steve’s hugging him, his face buried against the Soldier’s shirt. He’s silent, but his body is heaving with the force of his tears. “I’m sorry, Bucky,” Steve says, over and over again. “I’m so sorry. All this time—I didn’t understand.”

Because the Soldier doesn’t understand either, he does not try to respond.

He doesn’t know how much time goes by before Steve is out of tears. When that happens, Steve stands up on shaky legs and tells the Soldier to finish dressing. He leaves the bathroom, though by the time the Soldier steps into the pajama pants, he’s already back in the doorway.

And he’s holding Bucky Bear in his hands.

It is a precious gift, one the Soldier doesn’t deserve. He should thank Steve. He should get down on his knees and lick the floor clean to make up for the trouble he’s caused. But all the Soldier can do is take the bear and hug him tight, feeling tears of relief leak from his eyes as he does.

When the tears stop, he raises his head with a shy, grateful smile. “Thank you, Daddy.”

Daddy looks pale, but he smiles back. “You’re welcome,” he says, holding out his hand. “Now let’s get back to bed, lamb. It’s too early for you to be up.”

“Daddy?” Bucky says as he’s being tucked in. He can’t stop pressing his face against Bucky Bear, nuzzling his cheek against the soft fur. “I’m sorry I was so bad before.”

“I’m sorry too,” Daddy says. “But don’t worry. We’ll talk everything over in the morning, I promise.”

“Daddy?” Bucky whispers when Daddy’s lying back down beside him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Bucky. Every part of you.”

*

Daddy lets Bucky sleep in that morning, and when he does wake him up, breakfast is waiting on the table. There’s an omelet and apple bunnies and a smoothie for Bucky, and Bucky Bear’s honey bottle is sitting by Bucky’s plate.

“I’m sorry, Bucky,” Daddy says. “I haven’t been taking care of you properly.” He holds up a hand to silence Bucky when Bucky tries to protest. “I thought the parts of you that had changed would just go away if we didn’t talk about them. That didn’t work with your little side. I should have realized it wouldn’t work with your conditioning as the Soldier either. I’ve been such a selfish idiot.”

“But you take care of me all the time,” Bucky protests. Daddy makes him food and plays bears with him and reads to him every night. And he kept Bucky out of jail, gave him a place to live, and helped him remember stuff that let him stop listening to HYDRA.

“Only in the ways that are convenient,” Daddy says. He pulls out his phone, typing something. Bucky can’t tell what. “So here’s what we’re going to do today, Bucky. We’re going to clean up everything from yesterday, together. Then we’re going to talk to Tasha and Pepper. After that, I’m going to see if Cornelius and Miriam can come over today. I know they don’t work on Saturdays, so I’m not sure if they can. But I’d like for us to talk to them together as soon as we can, okay?”

“’Kay,” Bucky says. He bites the head off of one of the bunnies.

“And—” Daddy pauses, putting his phone back in his pocket. “I’m going to ask them to recommend a therapist to me too. Sam’s always saying I need to see one, but I’ve been too worried about taking care of everyone else. And that’s not helping. I can’t see things clearly anymore, and I have to work on that.”

Bucky isn’t sure if he’s supposed to answer. He just nods.

“But before we do any of that,” Daddy adds. “Once you finish your breakfast and get dressed, we’re going to go somewhere, okay?”

They take one of Tony’s cars. Wherever they’re going is on the other side of the city, and even on the weekends, the morning traffic is packed. Daddy doesn’t mind. He says otherwise they might get there too early, and he turns on the radio.

They park in front of an arcade that’s just opening for the day. Daddy leads him inside. The place is dark except for the neon of some of the machines, and a lot of the games make loud noises. Bucky squeezes onto Bucky Bear, but Daddy says it’s okay.

They look around at every machine before Daddy seems to decide on something. He leads Bucky to one game toward the back of the arcade. It has buttons, but no joystick. Where the joysticks are on the other machines, there’s a red plastic semiautomatic pistol connected to the machine by a wire.

“Can I hold Bucky Bear?” Daddy asks.

Bucky’s tummy clenches up, but he hands the bear over. He doesn’t understand why they’re here, and Bucky Bear doesn’t have any ideas either.

“Soldier,” Daddy says, sudden and serious.

He’s not supposed to be the Soldier. Not now or ever again. But when he looks at Daddy, Daddy just nods and repeats himself.

The Soldier stares at the screen of the game. Steve presses some buttons and shows him a list of high scores. He says he has a mission for the Soldier. Steve’s going to put money into the game, and the Soldier is to beat the highest score by as many points as he possibly can. Steve is going to supervise.

In the game, aliens are taking control of a government facility. The Soldier is to stop them. The game is easy because the aliens’ tactics are so simple compared to real militarized incursions. The Soldier begins the game with a weapon that matches the plastic gun in his hand, but there are upgrades as the game continues. A machine gun, a pump-action shotgun, an automatic shotgun, and a rocket launcher.

The game goes on for a long time. Periodically, when the Soldier succeeds at an objective given to him by Central Command, the machine will spit out tickets. There is a long chain of tickets touching down to the floor, doubling over on itself again and again as the Soldier proceeds through the facility. Sometimes he hears other patrons coming and going through the arcade door. Eventually, he becomes aware that some of the patrons are watching him.

When the game is complete, the Soldier has the new highest score, over a thousand points above the previous one. Steve smiles and guides the Soldier through entering the initials JBB for the high score list.

“That was perfect,” he says, and the Soldier feels a weight lift from his chest that he hadn’t even realized had settled there. “You did such a good job. Well done.”

They take all the tickets to the prize counter, but the Soldier can’t make a decision. He doesn’t need any of the things on display, and none of them look all that well-crafted. The stuffed animals have strained seams and uneven stuffing.

“Don’t want anything?” Steve asks, and there’s weight pressing on the Soldier’s chest again. This is a reward. How awful is he to refuse it?

“I—” he begins, but Steve just smiles.

“It’s okay,” he says. “I have another idea.”

The Soldier gives Steve the tickets, and Steve lets the Soldier hold onto Bucky Bear again. The children who had been watching the Soldier play are still nearby, staring from a distance they must think is inconspicuous, and Steve approaches them, tearing the tickets into equal lengths.

“My friend doesn’t really want any of the prizes,” he explains. “So we thought you might like these.”

The children like the tickets very much, judging by their shrill sounds. They call out as Steve and the Soldier exit, smiling and waving.

“Thanks, Mister!”

“You’re really good!”

“That was awesome!”

Steve smiles at him as the Soldier’s buckling his seatbelt. “Did you see how happy you made those kids?” he asks, turning the key in the ignition. “I’m so proud of you.”

The Soldier ducks his head down to hide his smile. He’s not sure if smiling is within parameters. It was a strange mission. He would consider it training, but the weaponry within the game was vastly simplified in comparison to real firearms. He cannot comprehend its purpose, but the Soldier finds he does not care to question the objective.

He completed the mission. Steve finally found a use for him, and the Soldier’s performance made him happy. So the Soldier, smiling against his bear’s fur, is happy too.

**Author's Note:**

> The title quote comes from "Obluda," a story book within Naoki Urasawa's manga _Monster._ The anime version of Obluda can be viewed [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fnQA-1qlgI4).
> 
> The game that Bucky plays in the arcade is similar to [_Area 51_](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Area_51_\(1995_video_game\)), but is not any particular, actual arcade game.
> 
> Since the last update, some fantastic stories in the APSHDS universe have been written, and you can check them out here:
> 
> [ _When I Get In_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4678874) by [vironsusi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vironsusi/pseuds/vironsusi)  
> [ _Kiss It Better_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4753412/chapters/10867256) by [vironsusi](http://archiveofourown.org/users/vironsusi/pseuds/vironsusi)  
> [ _A Laugh Upon Her Lips_](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4453220) by [WhatEvenAmI](http://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatEvenAmI/pseuds/WhatEvenAmI)
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](http://lauralot89.tumblr.com) as well, if you'd like to check out my posts there!


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